


The Quest of the Lake

by Lyre_Boleyne



Series: For All the Nights [6]
Category: Arthurian Mythology & Related Fandoms, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-29 17:37:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3904993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyre_Boleyne/pseuds/Lyre_Boleyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mystery blogger, the Queen of Avalon, brings corrupted men to justice. When she targets Arthur Pendragon and an old mistake he made, it's up to Galahad to stop her and protect his friend Morgana from further hurt.<br/>But, some people are not at all what you'd think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! This fic is inspired by the wonderful work of fictionalheart and, as you might guess, takes place in the same universe.  
> Elaine Corbenic is the CEO of The Grail, the paper for which Morgana works. Elaine's son, Galahad, enters a new quest while, on the other part of the city, another quest has already begun at the end of someone no one would ever suspect.

The internet was going crazy again. Once every couple of months, a new hunt would begin and the people of the Web would follow the slow agony of another man’s fall.

“She can’t go wrong, can she?”

Galahad was sipping his coffee, his sunglasses on even though he was inside. He kept reading the newspaper and ignored the comment. Or, maybe, he had not heard anything at all.

“Yesterday was not the weekend, so not one of your usual nights of revelry. She must have been really pretty to tempt you during a week night! Oh, sorry, am I presuming again? Was she a _he_?”

Galahad took his glasses off and sent an amused look towards his mother.

“I know you were being sarcastic, but I actually appreciate the thoughtfulness of rethinking your prejudices, mother.”

“Uhm, yes, well, I do try.” Elaine Corbenic was still a very beautiful woman. The twenty six years that had passed from the day she had become a mother had only gifted a certain strength to her features, a determination in the glint of her eyes. And, despite her sarcastic nature, she did try very hard.

“Have you heard what I said, Galahad?”

Galahad chuckled. “Are you my mother? It’s 10 am, I haven’t slept, and I’m still sipping my coffee. So, no, mother. I have not heard a single word you said.”

Elaine’s eyes shot to the ceiling as if an apparition were manifesting itself.

“I said” she paused and inhaled deeply “that woman cannot do anything wrong, can she?”

“Who?”

“The Queen of Avalon, Galahad. She is bringing another one down. And that little nerd is untraceable.”

“Why does that concern us? Isn’t it actually good? She raises awareness on the power of the blogging platform while dealing, yes, with our same topics but with a different approach!”

“Uhm. I wonder if Morgana will think the same”

Galahad looked perplexed. And finally, awake.

“Why shouldn’t she? She knows the business.”

“That she does. But I still think she wouldn’t like to know the Queen of Avalon’s next victim is her brother. Arthur Pendragon.”

“Shit.” Galahad jumped from the chair he was sitting on.  
“How do you know? No, it doesn’t matter for now. We need to tell her about this. Immediately.”

“Yes.” Elaine sat on the newly emptied chair. “Or, we could take care of this for her.”

She shifted on the chair and looked at her son. “I know I ask a lot of you. But, you know that Morgana is in a difficult position. She has just found a very precarious balance and this” she said, pointing at the Avalon blog "might just very well tipped the scale for the worst.”

Galahad looked at his mother and smiled. “Yes. We could take care of this. Well... I can.”

Elaine smiled back at her son.

“Yes. I will take care of this.”

* * *

“Of course! I will take care of this.”

“Thank you, Madge. I will see you on Tuesday then.”

The rendezvous appointed on the black leather agenda, she then gestured for the girl to help her keep her bag open as to more easily put her things back and left the central branch of the Lakeside Spa.

The decision to walk back home had not been a smart one. The sun was high and it was unseasonably warm. It seemed that everyone was outside and, while it was acceptable to pass some time with outdoor activities, it was certainly less acceptable for a society darling to be seen breaking into a stride that was less than graceful and more than hurried.

Viviane slowed down when she reached Mayfair in fear that even the buildings might observe her and pass judgement. Her mobile rang. 

“Percival, what a nice surprise!”

“ _Hello, stepmother! How are you doing? Excited for tomorrow?_ ”

“I am! The Lakes have always been known for their charitable work. And it seems like I am going to be the last one to honour this tradition, _stepson_.” replied Viviane, putting emphasis on the their shared joke.

Percival chuckled. “ _Serves me right for calling you stepmother, I guess._ ”

“Yes, I feel I shouldn’t have to remind you every time that I am only four years your senior.”

“ _Believe me, no one who has seen you would ever believe me to be the youngest between us!_ ”

“Umph. Very well. Can I at least count on your presence tomorrow?”

“ _I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Viviane._ ”

“Excellent, I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“ _Bye!_ ”

Viviane smiled. Everyone always expects stepmothers and stepchildren to be at odds but she had been lucky. When she had first married Pellinore, he had been a widower for three years and his son, Percival, had welcomed her warmly. After a short while, some very proper people had even believed them to be too ‘cosy’. Pellinore had known Viviane was loyal to him and that his son was simply a good-hearted boy who had looked at a new family member with acceptance and immediate affection.

Once she reached her address, her reflection in the Lake’s golden plaque reminded her she was no longer a scared twenty three year-old. The woman in front of her was rich, confident, and liked by everyone. Well, almost everyone. Viviane smirked at the thought while she closed the door behind her and went to her bedroom.

Her laptop was fully charged so she grabbed it and brought it with her in her private drawing room. A steaming cup of Earl Grey was ready on the small cherrywood table near the yellow silk sofa. Her staff knew her schedule to perfection and always made sure Viviane’s needs were seen to.

She sat down, opened her browser, and wrote: “the-justice-of-avalon.com”. The desired webpage appeared in front of her. She sipped her tea and stole a glance out of the window, where the emerald green of her English lawn interrupted the urban scene of London. She started typing:

_“My duty is not an easy one._

_However, it is clear to me that once a path has been chosen, there is no coming back._

_My people, another man will be brought to justice for his committed crimes._

_The first clue of our new quest is the following:_

_\-- B should have really listened to his brother, B, who, unlike him, knows how to swindle poor people.--_

_Yours,_  
_The Queen of Avalon.”_

 

Viviane smiled. It was hunting season.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone!  
> I am so sorry for the delay in posting but I had to work for my finals. Now, I am glad to be done so that I can dedicate more time to this fic!  
> I hope you'll love these characters as much as I do, both those from BBC Merlin and the original ones inspired by the Arthurian cycle. 
> 
> Enjoy,
> 
> LB

The cloying scent of roses invades the room and not even the breeze coming from the window provides any relief. The dress is too close-fitting, breathing is difficult. Viviane looks at herself in the mirror. A woman of medium height, with straight dark hair, and blue eyes stares back. Her dress is as yellow as a sunflower and clear diamonds sparkle on her throat. There had been times when even paste jewels had looked expensive, when bottled mineral water had looked like an expendable cost. She can still hear the shrill voice of her younger sister and the booming sound of her father’s irate screams. Make her stop, make her stop or so help me God I will. How do you make a small baby stop crying? There is no milk, there are no dolls. It’s dark outside and it’s cold. It’s dark, and it looks like it might just be dark forever. Don’t close your eyes, if you close your eyes, it would all be over, it would all have been for nothing.

What does nothing feel like?

“Mrs. Lake?”

Viviane turns and the image from her past dissolve like vapour in the air. “Yes?”

“The car is ready, Mrs. Lake.”

“Of course, look at the time. I will be down shortly. Thank you, Harrison.”

Hiring a female butler had been the best decision Viviane had made right after her marriage to Pellinore Lake. The shock on old white men’s faces whenever they realised their precious patriarchal traditions had been violated in the very heart of Grosvenor Square was a worth far more than the wages she paid Lucy Harrison. And, Lucy had been immovably loyal to Viviane since day one.

“Tomorrow I will go to the ‘Lake Centre for Orphaned Children’ myself. Please, make sure my breakfast is ready by eight am, Harrison” said Viviane, while draping herself in an expensive coat made from the same rare yellow silk of her long dress.

Lucy raised an eyebrow. Her curly white hair bobbed with every move she made.

“Surely, they don’t expect you to go in person.”

“An irrelevant point since I have already made up my mind to go.”

Lucy harrumphed but let the matter drop. When Viviane decides for a course of action there is no stopping her. So Viviane left her house to attend the exclusive Gala to raise funds for the ‘Lake Centre for Orphaned Children’.

Not like Cinderella to the ball but like Athena to war.

\-- --

“Your tie is giving me a headache.”

“I fear to ask. How is my tie giving you a headache?”

Galahad looked at himself in the mirror and failed to find anything that could give his mother a headache: no stripes, no dots, no tiny elephants, like last Christmas, no pattern whatsoever!

“Galahad, that tie is so skinny that I could cut your legs in half with it” said Elaine, reclining on the sofa with a glass of brandy in her right hand.

“What a nice thought, mother.”

“You look ridiculous.”

“I love you very much too, mother.”

He smirked and grabbed the keys. Before leaving the room, he passed his hands through his hair one last time.

“Lad?”

Galahad turned.

“Be careful, will you?”

Elaine’s life had not been an easy one. A woman with very little maternal instincts and a small baby to raise has never been a winning combination. And when such a woman is alone and disowned by her own family, circumstances might look even more grim. However, Elaine had seen her son grow up to be the best man she had ever met along with a multimillion empire in the media built from nothing. She could never utter some grand statements as “my son is entire my life!” but she could always look at her own flesh and blood and think she might not be a disaster after all.

Galahad, on the other hand, had never been able to hide the fact that he adored his mother. There had been no amount of beating at school that could have stopped him from fighting any bully who had dared to speak a word against Elaine. No amount of words from Elaine herself could have made him see reason. Now that he was grown, there could not have been no amount of “uh, still mummy’s boy, I see” that could have prevent him from showing affection to the mother who had done her best. The inability to hide emotions is still part of Galahad’s nature, and his constant cheerfulness, another cause of Elaine’s frequent headaches and less-frequent smiles.

“You know me! I am always careful! When have I ever been in trouble?”

Galahad fought not to smile. And, while he was leaving he could swear he heard his mother muttering something not fit for polite company.

————

The air night was warm despite Septembers in London being rather chilly. Though the stars were covered by a thick ever-present cloud of smog, the lights of the City’s skyscrapers created a magical atmosphere. Organising the party on the grand terrace of Lake Knightsbridge had been a very smart idea: not only the enterprise did not have to pay additional fees for renting another space but there was also something about the idea of being on her territory that made Viviane feel powerful and brave. She looked around with a smile pasted on her face. Somehow it feel wrong to share something so intimate as a meal with people she mainly disliked. The best Italian Prosecco on the market was liberally distributed in elegant _flûtes_ , like ale in a Medieval Hall. She took a sip from her own glass, still intently eyeing the mass of immemorable faces trying to remember the reason why she was there tonight.

“Your diamonds are as much a work of art as the Manet in your lobby, Mrs. Lake.”

Viviane languidly turned around and met Balan Sachson intent stare for a moment before it turned back to her décolletage.

“Why, thank you, Mr. Sachson. Your words are everything a lady wants to hear.”

“Well, you’re welcome.”

There probably is not, nor there ever will be, anything more annoying, infuriating, and puzzling than some people’s skill for not recognising sarcasm. Nothing to do but smile and brave the prospect of a very dull conversation.

“I hope you are enjoying the party.”

“Indeed, I am! Nothing better than good food and liberal drinking, not for me!”

“And helping children, of course.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thought that was obvious.”

“Of course.”

The muscles of her mandible would be sore in the morning with all this fake smiling.

“So, how’s business?” asked Balan bluntly.

“Oh, it is not bad. Considering the crisis, you know. We could do better, one always can, but there are so many people in need that I really feel like I cannot complain. And how about you, Mr. Sachson? Any advice for a lamb among wolves like me?” asked Viviane sweetly, pouting her lips just a little.

Balan’s chest puffed up like that of a peacock right before showing off his tail.

“Well, market’s a mess, that what it is. I can tell you that. And, a fellow needs do whatever is necessary to survive. Many might have compunctions about doing stuff but it is a jungle out there and a bit of savagery is not amiss, aye?”

He blinked and Viviane tried to keep the rising nausea at bay.

“You are so right, Mr. Sachson! So right. Would you care to accompany me to the buffet?”

“Sure thing, Viviane. I can call you Viviane, right?”

“Oh, but of course, Balan.”

It looked like the little spider was getting entangled in his own messy net.

————

Whenever Galahad entered a room, it seemed like the entire place was charged with new energy. He had become the kind of person people instinctively trust: with his smiling eyes and easy manners, it was very difficult to distrust him or accuse him of a second purpose. Galahad smiled and the the entire world seemed to fall at his feet. With a tuxedo on, the effect seemed even more acute. Men and women would send furtive glances at him or openly stare in appreciation. Grabbing a glass, he thanked the waitress and smiled. The poor girl blushed and almost dropped her tray.

“You’re unbelievable, mate.”

“I don’t know what you mean, mate.”

Percy laughed and slapped Galahad’s shoulder which almost made him spill the entire Prosecco on the floor.

“It’s not like you’ve changed much, Percy! How are things?”

“I am good, everything’s going ok. You? Man, it’s been ages!”

“Indeed, it has! What are you doing here?”

“It’s a gala organised by Lake Spa, and I am a Lake!” replied Percy indignantly.

“You’re here for the free food, aren’t you?”

A moment of silence followed.

“Yeah.”

They both laughed.

“Honestly, though,” continued Percy. “My stepmother organised all this and it seemed right to be here. She manages Lake Spa all on her own, which allows me to concentrate on my photography. She has always supported me, even when Pa still lived and we were always at odds about what I wanted to do and what he wanted me to do. So, it seemed like the right thing to do.”

Galahad nodded, remembering their permanence at Eton and then Oxford.

“Ha, there she is. Let’s go save her, that leech Sachson has been monopolising her since he arrived.”

Percy lead him towards the east corner of the terrace, and Galahad’s smile faded for the first time. He was expecting a lovely lady in her late forties, a bit like his mother. He certainly was not prepared for the vision that welcomed him. Trying to regain his composure he followed Percival. Her smile was more of a smirk and did not reach her eyes. She looked in need of rescuing, thought Galahad.

“Balan, old man!” almost screamed Percival. “Time to let the lovely lady go.”

It was obvious that Balan did not appreciate being called an ‘old man’ by a handsome man in his twenties. He didn't even attempt to smile, just murmured something and left. Viviane turned and brought the full force of her glare upon them.

“One day, Percival,” she sighed. “One day, you will learn that I am able to handle myself.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” replied Percy, his shoulder slumping a bit.

“Of course, you do not.”

Galahad chuckled and, for the first time, their eyes met. They observed each other, undisturbed by Percival’s presence. It would have certainly been awkward had they been aware of their surroundings and of all the other people on the terrace. The air around them was tense, like the moment right before the beginning of a sword match, when two opponents are ready to fight but are still waiting, their weapons up, _en garde_. Viviane was the first one to come back to her sense. She looked at Percival who was just looking around and was completely oblivious of what was happening.

“Eh-hem” Percival finally acknowledged them. After a pointed look from Viviane, he realised his social _faux pas_.

“Oh, yes. Ehm, Viviane, this is my friend Galahad Corbenic. Galahad, this is my- ehm- my late father’s wife, Viviane Lake.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr Corbenic.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Mrs Lake.”

They shook hands, and their swords met.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, again!
> 
> Apparently, this has been a very productive beginning of the week!  
> Enjoy the new chapter!
> 
> LB

Silk is a false friend. It is soft and flattering, and elegant. But, it’s too warm when worn under the sun and too cold when worn in the night. Viviane shivered. It was almost morning, the gala had been a success, and she was waiting for her car to be brought around. She had been waiting for more than ten minutes already, but it felt like she had been waiting for hours instead. A small puff of air escaped her lips to express her frustration.

‘May I be of help?’

Galahad Corbenic was standing right behind her and was looking at her with that smile of his.

‘No’ replied Viviane and turned back.

He chuckled and walked to get closer.

‘I am sorry if I have insulted you, I didn’t mean to. However, the temperature’s getting lower and I am afraid your coat offers very little protection.’

‘My car is being brought around, Mr. Corbenic. And, it is just a breeze, not a big green dragon.’

‘A green dragon?’

‘Dragons are green.’

‘It depends on the dragon. I wouldn’t like a green dragon, I dislike green. And, anyway, I think his belly should be red, you know, because of the fire.’

‘Dragons don’t store fire in their bellies, that is ridiculous.’

‘Where does the fire come from then?’

Viviane looked at him. Really looked at him. He was handsome, the most handsome man she had seen in a very long time, probably ever. His expression puzzled her. He was not mocking her, he was earnestly discussing dragons with her. She couldn’t help it. She laughed for the sheer ridiculousness of it all. When her laughter subsided she found he was looking at her and smiling.

‘I knew that could not have been your real smile.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘The smiles you were giving to that Sachson. I knew your eyes could smile too. Not that I blame you, I wouldn’t waste any of my smiles on that man either. He looks like a frog. Smells like one too.’

‘You probably wouldn’t have smiled at him anyway, Mr Corbenic, since he’s a man.’

‘A man can’t smile at another man?’

‘Isn’t that one of those masculine taboos of yours? Of you men, I mean. Don’t you reserve your smiles for pretty girls?’

‘I don’t. I like a handsome man, and if I like a man, I smile my brightest smile, Mrs Lake.’

Viviane froze on the spot for a moment and stared at him. Without having the time to actually think about her next words, she blurted:

‘Are you gay?’

Galahad sent a mockingly reprimanding look.

‘Tsk, Mrs Lake. I expected better from you. It’s the twenty-first century, let’s abandon binary ways of thinking about sexuality, shall we?’

Viviane was still confused and looked at him expectantly.

‘I am bisexual, Mrs Lake. And, yes, it’s a real thing.’

‘Oh.’ Viviane didn’t know what to say. If it were not for her age and her experience she might have blushed.

Her blue BMW arrived just in that moment, before either of us had time to say anything else.

‘I am so sorry, Mrs Lake, some drunkard had left his car right in front of the main exit and I had to call security.’ said her driver, while he got out of the car and opened the door for Viviane.

‘It is quite alright, Harold.’

Viviane turned before entering the car.

‘Well, uhm, thank you for keeping me company while I waited, Mr Corbenic.’

‘Galahad. You can call me Galahad.’

‘Alright, then.’ she smiled. ‘It has been a real pleasure… Galahad.’

‘Not as much as it has been for me.’

‘This is not a competition, Galahad.’

‘Isn’t everything a competition, Viviane?’

She got in the car then, smiled at him and waved her hand. Galahad smiled back, and kept staring at the car until it disappeared from the horizon.

————

She had blushed. Galahad started walking towards his red Alfa Romeo. She had blushed so prettily and had looked so much younger, even younger than him. It had felt right to tease her. The streets were almost empty and driving was pleasant. He arrived home sooner than any other time. Hammersmith was a bit more crowded, some people already leaving for work, or coffee shops opening for the early risers. Galahad was not tired at all. He had an idea and, by the time he had showered and changed, he had a full plan.

The Grail’s offices were empty at 6 am, just as Galahad had hoped they would be. He started sending emails, researching places on online maps, looking for forgotten numbers on his mobile. There might be still a way to solve the case and further his acquaintance with Viviane. The two might actually be connected efforts, she was an important member of good society, after all.

That was as far as he would go in admitting his fascination with her.

‘Should I be worried?’

Galahad’s mobile flied from his hands, the London A-Z fell on the floor, and his tea spilled on his favourite pair of jeans.

Elaine just raised her right eyebrow.

‘In all my life, I never thought I’d witness to such a scene outside a screen.’

Galahad didn’t reply and just collected his things, trying to ignore the intense burning feeling on his left calf.

‘Are you alright?’

‘Yes, I am alright, you just startled me.’

‘Uhm, strange. You had gotten so much better at detecting my walk since that time when you were thirteen and I found you-‘

‘Seriously, mother?!’ screamed Galahad.

‘Alright, alright, don’t get all worked up. You just had that same expression on your face.’

Galahad sighed and tried to right the mess he had made.

‘I have never seen you in the office before 10 am, though. My surprise is appropriate. Should I be concerned to find you here?’

‘As I said thirteen years ago as well: no, please, leave.’

‘If this is about Avalon, then it concerns me too.’

‘Fine. I might have a lead. You were right about the blogger being from high society. I don’t know his identity yet but it is definitely someone who attend this kind of events. Men get drunk easily at these occasions and they would spill their dead mother’s secrets to have a peek at a woman’s décolletage. Therefore, I need to contact some old friend, collect some old favours attend more of soirées, and I am sure I might find out his identity soon enough.’

Elaine nodded but looked thoughtful.

‘What is wrong?’

‘Nothing’s wrong, Galahad. I am just thinking about what you said. And about Morgana.’

‘What about Morgana? Is she alright?’

‘She is not. But, she will be, I hope.’

It was Galahad’s turn to nod and then to turn away.

‘Remember that you can’t be forthcoming about all of this with her.’

‘I am a good liar. You made me one, remember?’

Elaine frowned. ‘That I did. But, it’s Morgana we’re talking about. She’s better than most at reading people.’

A moment of silence ensued. Elaine sat on an empty chair in front of Galahad’s desk.

‘And I know you have always been… Partial to her.’

‘There is nothing between Morgana and me, if that’s what you’re insinuating. There has never been anything between us. She helped me at a time when I didn’t want to be helped, when I thought that struggling against my feelings was supposed to be my cross to bear and there could never be anything to do about it. You know that.’

‘I know that, Lad. I know. I might not have been too grateful to her back then. But it has been long since I realised that she saved us both. That is also what I am trying to say. We are doing this to shield her from further pain. She doesn’t need this, especially not now.’

‘I know, I know.’

‘Good, then you also know that you need to be extra careful around her.’

‘I will.’

They started at each other and shared a comforting smile. They didn’t have much in common, Galahad and Elaine, but they felt the same way about Morgana: she was family.

‘What do you know about Viviane Lake?’

‘Pellinore’s widow?’

‘Yes, Percy’s stepmother.’

‘I hope you haven’t called her that!’

‘I have lived with a woman who didn’t want me to call her ‘mum’ because it made her feel old. So, no. I certainly did not call her that.’

‘Umph. good.’

Galahad looked at her expectantly.

‘I know virtually nothing about her life before she married Pellinore Lake. She was born in Wales, I think. And that is it. She married very young, early twenties I think. She is liked by everyone in society, really. She is a good business woman and a perfect society girl. Never a hair out of place, never seen her without a pair of stilettos on yet always on time at meetings and conferences. Why do you ask?’

‘It was her gala I attended yesterday, so I was just curious.'

‘Yes, I suppose you would be. She’s very good-looking too, isn’t she?’

‘Well, that was enlightening, mother. I am sure you have many important things to do and I wouldn’t want to keep you from them a moment longer.’

Elaine smirked and raised from her chair.

‘You are so predictable, Lad.’

Galahad raised his voice: ’Goodbye, mother!’

————

She expected the mist around her to be cold and to make her shiver. Instead, it was warm like vapour, and it made breathing difficult. She waited in the courtyard, nonetheless. She stood straight right in front of the entrance, her arms resting naturally on her side. The blue bliaut was held together by a silver girdle that also held a jewelled dirk. She was ready for whatever was coming. When the little bark appeared on the horizon, she tensed. This time, it was not empty.

A knight in full combat-armour and helmet, alighted from it. She kept her ground and just waited to see what would happen, ready to fight if necessary. Her eyes were fixed on him and didn’t notice the big wave coming behind her, until she saw the knight grabbing his sword and charging against something that was standing right behind her. She turned and she saw it. The wave that usually would submerge in all her nightmares was now changing under her horrified stare in a water dragon. She would have been eaten alive had the knight not been ready to attack. She saw everything in slow motion: she was knocked on the ground but the knight put himself between her and the beast, raised his sword and slew the monster in one single attempt. The dragon exploded and nothing but a bucketful of water remained. The mist dissolved and the sun shined in the stony courtyard. Viviane tried to shield her eyes with her hand while the knight took off his helmet. She stood and turned to be able to look at him without the sun blinding her. Her heart raced and a sweat broke on her pale brow.

The knight in shining armour was Galahad Corbenic.

He approached her and when he was close enough, he gathered her in his arms, and before she had a chance to say or do anything, he kissed her. She sighed and abandoned herself to the moment. When she raised her head to look at him, he was ghastly pale and the next moment he collapsed on the floor. Viviane cried out and tried to hold him. His eyes that had shone so bright a moment before now looked empty and unfocused. He was dead. She screamed.

Viviane woke up when the scream had not yet died on her lips and her cheeks were still wet from her tears.

It was a different nightmare, yet it was always the same nightmare.

It was her life.

She destroyed everyone she had ever loved, and she always would.

 

****  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go with another chapter!  
> Our protagonists are getting closer and Merlin makes a nice appearance.
> 
> Oops! Spoilers!
> 
> LB

‘Merlin, where are we?’  
  
‘You never were a snob, Viviane.’  
  
‘I am not a snob now either.’  
  
‘What is wrong with this place?’  
  
‘I have a list.’  
  
‘You _are_ a snob.’  
  
‘Merlin, they offered us harmonised water!’  
  
‘Well-’  
  
‘No! No “well”, Merlin! Here, the water listens to classical music. The water. Listens. To. Classical Music!’  
  
Merlin blushed and sipped his spinach, kale, avocado, persil, and coconut water smoothie.  
  
‘Are you sure you don’t want some?’  
  
Viviane frowned. ‘Positive.’  
  
She rarely would give voice to her feelings but she was happy of having Merlin in her life. When she dropped out of university for marrying Pellinore, no one understood, no one stayed in touch without further interests but Merlin. He was the only friend she ever had. He could be an idiot sometimes, but he was her best friend. That was why she had to lecture him.

  
‘You shouldn’t have done that.’  
  
‘I know, I know. I freaked out. She was there, and it was like the past five years had not passed at all. I- I am still unhappy about what happened back then.’  
  
Viviane observed him and remembered the time Morgana had broken his heart. They didn’t meet for months and when he finally called her afterwards, he didn’t want to talk about any of that.  
  
‘Merlin, I never intruded in your private life, as you never did in mine. It’s an unspoken accord that has suited us both but I feel I have to tell you something. Mind you, I will say this once and then never again, for our friendship’s sake.’  
  
Merlin was looking at her intently and not wholly comfortable with the turn the conversation had taken.  
  
‘You need to abstain from these kind of games because now it’s an innocent prank, tomorrow it’s a sea of misunderstandings you won’t be able to cross. Believe me, I know.’  
  
He looked away and seemed lost in thought. The green smoothie now looked a bit less green, and a bit more brown.  
  
‘Merlin, that thing is looking more and more disgusting by the minute.’  
  
‘You mean, the colour? It’s a good sign! It means there are no preservatives and it’s all natural!’  
  
Viviane raised her right eyebrow.  
  
‘Right. And, that’s my cue for leaving.’  
  
She got up, as did Merlin. He had a ‘green moustache’. Then, she put her hand on his shoulder and sent him a pitying look.  
  
‘Don’t let her see you like this.’  
  
Her lips thinned, and before he could reply, she left.  
  
————  
  
  
The elegant and aesthetically pleasing surroundings soothed Viviane and with a slowly cooling cup of oolong tea next to her she tried to think about the next clue. She was positively drowning in all the contracts that needed to be read and signed but concentrating for more that five minutes at a time was simply impossible.    
  
 _Someone should not have trusted in his kin. Someone should have read before signing_.  
  
Which was ironic because it easily applied to her next victim and to herself.  
  
 _Someone else should stop thinking about pretty boys and go back to work_.  
  
In all fairness, she only thought about one pretty boy. Goodness, he was a boy. For having gone to school with Percival, he must now be twenty-seven, or twenty-eight. Not that much younger than her thirty years.  
  
 _Thirty-one, you liar_.  
  
Her head was going to explode. Neither the tea nor the white marble around her were doing their job. She looked outside the window, hoping for a landscape that could distract her from her own internal soliloquy. The door bell rang and she ignored the newly-arrived customer. She just hoped it was not some old lonely rich matron that would approach her to chat.  
  
‘Viviane, what a coincidence!’  
  
She turned then. An unrepeatable list of curses passed through her mind while her palms began to sweat.  
  
‘Galahad.’  
  
 _Your voice is too throaty, get a grip, you’re a woman not a teenager_!  
  
‘What a nice surprise to find you here, Viviane! Do you mind if I join?’  
  
Before she had time to reply, Galahad had already sat down and gestured to a waiter to come and get his order.  
  
‘I’ll have an Irish Breakfast tea, and scones with cream and jam, s’il-vous-plait.’  
  
 _Perfect, that’s what was missing_ , thought Viviane, _Apollo had to speak French too_.  
  
The waiter looked startled too from both his manner and his look.  
  
It was not an everyday occurrence to see a man who was not wearing a suit here. It also now registered in her mind that he wasn’t wearing a jacket and his t-shirt did not have long sleeves.  
  
‘What are you wearing?’  
  
Galahad smiled as if satisfied she had noticed.  
  
 _Don’t blush!_  
  
‘A t-shirt and jeans?’  
  
‘It’s late September, it’s chilly.’  
  
‘So?’  
  
‘You’re going to catch your death.’  
  
‘If I had a penny for every time my mother has said that to me, I’d be even richer than I already am.’  
  
 _Show off_. She sent him a look that was both perplexed and unconvinced.  
  
‘Can I ask what you are doing here?’  
  
‘What do you mean? I always come here!’ lied Galahad.  
  
‘You don’t.’  
  
‘Of course, I do! Ask my good friend-’ he leaned backward on his chair to read the waiter’s tag ‘Jeremy! Ask, my good friend Jeremy, I am sure he would confirm.’  
  
‘He might but it would not make it any less of a lie since I have been coming here every Wednesday at 4pm for the past six years.’  
  
‘Then, maybe, I have been coming here every Tuesday at 4pm and that’s why we’ve never met here before.’  
  
Viviane raised and her eyebrows and just stared at him. Thankfully, the tea arrived and she had time to try and regain her composure. It was very difficult when he looked that way. He was wearing a white thin perfectly-fitted t-shirt and jeans that were skinny enough to contour his body but too much as to look ridiculous. It was even more distracting that in her fantasies.  
  
 _Goodness, what fantasies, shut up!_  
  
‘Are you ok?’  
  
‘What?’ Viviane jumped and asked with high-pitch voice  
  
Galahad smiled smugly and asked again. ‘You look a bit parched. Is everything ok?’  
  
‘Of course, it’s just work stuff, business, you know.’  
  
 _Stop sounding like a dumb goose!_  
  
 _Stop talking in my head!_  
  
‘Of course.’  
  
Viviane sent him was she hope was a collected and serene smile. He started eating his scones then after gulping down some tea.  
  
‘I was thinking’ he said, between morsels. ‘There is a lecture at Monmouth University the day after tomorrow.’  
  
‘I am sure you would profit from whatever is going to be taught.’  
  
Galahad laughed and ate the last chuck of scone in one single bite. A bit of cream remained on the left side of his lips. Viviane repressed the urge to stare.  
  
‘You have cream on your face.’  
  
‘Where?’  
  
‘On your left.’  
  
He raised a hand and tried to clean himself without success.  
  
‘Use a napkin, for heaven’s sake. And, I said left!’  
  
‘I am sorry, I am not good at this. Must be a childhood trauma. You do it.’ And passed her his napkin.  
  
Viviane took the napkin, repressed a sigh, and leaned forward to do as he asked. He was looking at her intently and suddenly she was mad.  
  
‘Here, done.’ she said curtly  
  
Galahad took hold of her wrist. They stared at each other for a moment. The golden boy disappeared and was replaced by the intense stare of a young man that was trying to figure her out. Viviane held his stare for a few seconds but, suddenly, it was too much. She put on her haute mask.  
  
‘Very well, Mr. Corbenic. This has been very amusing but now I need to go back to my office.’  
  
She raised and collected all her documents. He placed himself in front of her and handed her a paper.  
  
‘What is this?  
  
‘It’s a flyer for the lecture I was trying to tell you about. I am going to be there and I was hoping you would too.’  
  
She looked at the flyer and the Medieval image of the dragon almost made her catch her breath. Underneath the sky inhabited by the creature, there were a knight and his lady dressed in blue. Just like in her dream.  
  
‘I am a busy woman, I am not sure I have time for this.’  
  
He was standing too close, she needed to get free.  
  
‘Nevertheless, I hope you will be there. I would like to discuss dragons with you again.’  
  
She nodded and walked away from him. When she thought she was finally free she heard him call her.  
  
‘Viviane?’  
  
She turned. ‘What?’  
  
Bathed in the weak September sun, it looked like the cloud had parted just to better show him in his splendour. He was smiling again.  
  
‘My name is Galahad. I thought we were calling each other by our first names.’  
  
‘And so we were.’  
  
An awkward silence followed. And, just when she thought she could not stare at him a moment longer, she found the courage to take a deep breath and reply.  
  
‘Goodbye Galahad.’  
  
Viviane then turned and slowly walked out of the tea room, trying to suppress the irrational need to run away.  
  
————  
  
Galahad had to admit that the expensive leather sofas were comfortable as hell. He sat down more than forty minutes earlier and there was still no sign of Arthur Pendragon. Albion’s offices had already closed and many suit clad men and women had gathered here, in one of the fanciest pubs in the City, to drink the tiredness and the boredom away. He ordered his second black coffee since he knew he would not be able to sleep anyway. Too many things to think about. The book he was reading was starting to be tedious with all these men killing men, killing women, regretting, hiding pain, wandering in search of redemption. It was just unbearable. He thanked the waiter for the coffee and, as he drank, he looked around and started fidgeting with his pen. He should not have asked her out so soon, there was no chance she would show up. None. Did he intend to ask her out? For the life of him, he could have sworn he hadn't meant to do that. He had seen the poster for the conference on magical creatures and the picture of the dragon had caught his attention and had made him think of her. Not so many things to think about then. Only one.   
When Arthur walked in and sat at the round table at the centre of the pub he was caught unprepared and would have almost been caught staring had he not immediately started doodling on a napkin.   
The mission. That was the point. He needed to keep Arthur safe from the Avalon blogger for Morgana's sake. She had come too close to building her life back again for this to come down upon her. Because if that old story came out, it would touch her as much as her brother and his family.   
Therefore, Galahad concentrated on the task ahead of him. He wasn't interested in Arthur's conversation. He needed to study the people around him. To get an idea of who might want or could gain from Arthur's fall. He observed the room and after a while it became clear that no one in that room could have wished any harm to befall on Albion's CEO. His councilmen around him, he looked like a normal person and everyone who accosted him received a kind word, or a pat on the shoulder, or might even get invited to see a picture of his daughter and comment on the fact that there was not a prettier child in the whole world.   
Galahad paid for his coffee and left. It was only after organising his laundry that he found the napkin he had been doodling on at the pub. Viviane's face stared back, a sincere smile on her lips.   
He had not realised.   
He went to throw it away but, at the last moment, he couldn't. He put it in the drawer of his bedside table and decided that overthinking would be unwise.   
  
He, however, was a fool.   
  


 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place somewhere between chapters 9 and 10 of 'For All the Things I Couldn't Tell You'.  
> Hope you'll enjoy!
> 
> LB

 

The lecture room packed, Galahad had to protect the seat he was saving for Viviane from over-eager students since even placing the lecture’s flyer on it apparently didn’t send a strong enough message. He wasn’t certain Merlin would be happy to see him but he hoped that seeing him with Viviane would ease his mind from the jealousy he had clearly felt the other day at the café. Everyone sat down and took their notebooks or laptops out, the projector was on and the image of a dragon appeared on the whiteboard. Galahad sighed inwardly: it had been a foolish hope.

‘Ehm, shall we start?’

Great now he was stuck in a two hours lecture on medieval mythology. He was considering the best way to leave when someone went to sit next to him. As instinctual reaction he whispered:

‘I am sorry, this seat is-’

He stopped abruptly when he realise that it was Viviane.

‘Taken? Yes, it is. By me.’

She smiled at him. She had shed her business clothes for a patterned pair of trousers, blue with white tiny diamonds, a white blouse, dark blue loafers, and a soft leather bag. Her hair was bound in a ponytail, and instead of her usual red lipstick, she was wearing a natural-looking gloss.

Galahad could follow very little of the class. He tried focusing on folklore and literary myths but his eyes always kept going back to Viviane, trying to absorb her every little detail: her lightly floral perfume, the way her hair would move softly every time a breeze came through the east windows, the way her blouse accompanied the rise and fall of her breath. He really hoped she would not notice the state of restlessness he was in.

————

She had looked forward to the lecture. After her encounter with Galahad at the tea room, Viviane had gone back to her office but instead of getting to work she had instead researched online the content of the lecture and discovered it was to be held by Merlin. It was only after the discovery that she decided she would go: she was interested in the topic and it would feel good to support her friend. Her decision had nothing to do with Galahad. Very little to do with him. And, it was not while thinking about him that she had chosen her outfit but she had done so solely to fit in in the class.

She decided to steal a glance at him. He was looking at her, it looked like he was trying very hard not to: he shifted in his chair every other minute, trying to find a position that would make him look as if he was following the lecture but in an angle that would also allow him to keep her in his visual field.

On his part, he had dressed a bit more formally: he was still wearing jeans, but this time he matched them with a pair of leather Church’s, and a black polo. If possible he looked even more handsome, the black of the shirt contrasting with his dark blonde hair and slightly tan complexion.

Viviane felt observed and had to make a huge effort to even listens to a couple of sentences every few minutes because she could feel his eyes on her. Thankfully, not everything she had studied had gone out of her mind, which helped her to follow Merlin’s paper at least partially.

He shifted in his chair again just at the same time she crossed her legs. Their hips touched and Viviane felt as if a lighting bolt had gone through her. She looked straight ahead for the next ten minutes until she couldn’t anymore and she noticed that Galahad did not look flippant or self-assured: his hands were on the table in front of him, he was sitting very straight and looking ahead even though his eyes looked unfocused. She wasn’t certain that the realisation he was affected by her as much as she was affected by him gave her any comfort.

————

The lecture ended and Galahad released a breath he must have been holding for the past two hours. He was so distracted by the sudden relief that he didn’t notice Viviane had already gotten up and was moving toward the podium. He quickly caught up with her because thankfully many people were trying to get closer and made proceeding forward a challenge.

‘I know him, you know.’

Viviane turned towards him. ‘Really?’

‘Yes, I met him once. He’s a friend of a friend, you know. I could introduce you, if you want.’

‘Yes. Yes, you could.’

She smiled at him, it was almost a smirk, to be honest, but it still made Galahad think he had said the right thing. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure how friendly Merlin would be considering their last encounter, which had also been their first. He just had to be extra-charming and hope that seeing him with another woman would placate his jealousy.

Once they managed to get closer, Galahad immediately moved towards Merlin.

‘Hello, Merlin, what a pleasure to see you again. I must say, I really enjoyed your paper! So compelling! The topic in itself is fascinating, of course, but your expository skills-’

Merlin interrupted him the moment he spotted Viviane. ‘You came!’

‘Of course, I came, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world!’ she replied and hugged him.

Galahad felt like the floor opened under his feet and he tried to hide his embarrassment by scratching his forehead.

‘Did you enjoy it?’

‘I really loved the paper when I read it but I think your presentations added something to it, the way the slides aided your exposition was spot on! I told you that making a Power Point would have enhanced understanding and make it even more interesting.’

‘So you did, and never was I more grateful for advice.’

‘Well, except that time. You know.’

Merlin laughed. ‘Oh, yes, of course, that time!’

They have inside jokes too?!?

Galahad wanted to punch Merlin in the face. He was certain he could do some very nice harm to those chiseled cheekbones of his.

‘Uhm, you two know each other?’

Both Merlin and Viviane turned towards him but it was Viviane who spoke.

‘Yes, Merlin and I have been very good friends for more than a decade!’

She looked smug and satisfied with herself and Galahad felt ten times more of an idiot for having boasted of knowing Merlin when it was obvious now that between the two of them she was the one with the greater connection.

‘And, how do you know each other?’ asked Merlin.

‘We met at the Lakeside Gala, you know, my gala. The kind of event I invite you to and that you refuse to attend?’ replied Viviane sweetly.

‘You know, it’s not my style, Viv.’

He has a nickname for her?

Galahad’s hands itched and keeping a cool façade was starting to get more and more difficult.

‘I guess it is not. You’re more the ‘bohemian intellectual’ kinda guy.’

They shared a laugh together.

‘I read.’ replied Galahad, out of the blue.

Merlin had to contain a grin while Viviane just stared at him, confused.

Perfect, no greater idiot ever walked the earth, thought Galahad

‘Well, I have to go now. We have a round table session in five.’

‘Of course, thank you, Merlin. And enjoy your success… while it lasts!’

‘Very funny, Viviane. I am amused’

‘So am I’

Did she just wink at him? That was really enough.

‘Yes, well, nice talking to you, we’re leaving too.’

Galahad grabbed her wrist and almost dragged her outside the lecture room. If he had not rushed out as he did, he would have seen Viviane smiling at him fondly.

\-- -- -- --

‘You could have told me you know Merlin.’

‘I could have. But, then, where would the fun be in that?

It was close to noon and Galahad and Viviane had been walking in companionable silence for a while, exchanging a few words about inconsequential matters.

‘Are you hungry? There’s a restaurant not far from here that you might like.'

'Do you mean The Curtain?'

'Yes, I saw it online and it seems like the kind of the place you would like.'

'Yes, it does, doesn't it?'

Viviane turns the other way and tries to hide a bitter smile. Maybe someone less observant than Galahad would have missed the sudden change in her expression.

'Did I say something wrong?'

'No, of course not. You-' she stopped mid sentence because his expression was so open and honest in that moment that she knew she would have hated herself had she lied to him.

'I'm not allowed in.'

Viviane let the news sink in and stared at the old buildings in front of her.

'Did you get into a brawl?'

He was smiling his dazzling smile.

'No, I-'

'Please, tell me you punched someone!'

'No!'

'Threw a shoe at the Maître de salle?'

'I didn't-'

'Ooh, were you caught in the restroom with someone?'

'Galahad!'

He stopped and stared at her intently. After a few seconds, she couldn't bear it any longer.

'What?'

'It's the first time I didn't have to ask you to call me by my name.'

Viviane stared back at him and gripped the handle of her bag until the knuckles of her hands were white. She breathed deeply, trying to calm the feeling of queasiness.

'And so it is.'

'Thank you, Viv.'

'Only Merlin calls me Viv.'

All of a sudden he was very serious.

'Don't play that game with me.'

After what seemed to be an interminable moment of awkwardness, he turned around and heaved a sigh.

'Well, I am hungry. And since we can't go to The Curtain after you got caught doing the naughty-'

'I did no such thing!'

'Well, pity!' Galahad smirked. And Viviane couldn't help but laugh, almost giggle.

'Let's go to the take-away on the other side of the Cathedral. Then we can sit in the shade and you’ll finally be able to tell me why you're not allowed in there.'

'Fine. But will you stop making up improbable scenarios!'

'Improbable? Mrs. Lake, does that mean it is possible you could one day be caught in the restroom with a handsome young men?'

'I suppose it depends if I like the handsome young man enough or not!' exclaimed Viviane.

She laughed and started walking towards the take-away while all Galahad could do was stare at her, frozen on the spot, praying for strength.

****  
  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

Galahad opened the door to his apartment, whistling. He checked to see what was inside his fridge and wrote a note on his board that he should buy some wine. Adults always have wine.  
Viviane still had not told him the story about The Curtain, and had tricked him into revealing more about himself than he would have wanted. There were moments when he forgot he was in the middle of an investigation, that his purpose in life was not concocting one excuse after another just to see Viviane. The days he did not see her, no matter how fruitful they turned out to be, felt like a waste. Today had been, thankfully, a very good day.   
The reflection in the mirror showed a different Galahad. First of all, he was not hungover. There were no dark circles under his eyes. And he looked more serene, calm, even though he was certainly not feeling so. After getting some take-away noodles, they had sat in the shade of the Medieval Cathedral, in a secluded alcove. He had been painfully aware of her presence next to him the entire time. She had smelled of roses and powder, her perfume delicate but still noticeable. Galahad grinned at his reflection in the mirror, remembering her reaction when he had told her his age.

‘By the way, you were in school with Percival.’

‘I was, we were good friends. We still are.’

‘So, you had classes together.’

‘No, he was a few years above me.’

‘I am sorry what?’

‘Perc was a couple of years-’

‘How old are you?’

‘I turned twenty-six three months ago.’

Viviane had then been stunned into silence, had even stopped eating.

‘Does it bother you to be associated with a younger man?’

‘Well, you could have told me before!’

‘When should I have told you?’

‘Well, you talk a lot, I am sure you would have been able to find a moment if you had wanted.’

‘But I didn’t want to tell you.'

‘You knew it would have bothered me?’

‘I was hoping it would.’

Viviane had stared almost open-mouthed at him at that point, still not eating.

‘You should really eat your noodles.’ said Galahad, popping some chicken into his mouth.

‘Why?’

‘Why should you eat?’

‘Why were you hoping it would bother me, Galahad?’ Viviane had asked irritably.

‘Well, the only reason why it could ever bother you to be seen with a younger man, in this case me, is if you thought of me as something more than a friend, if there was something between us. If I were a mere acquaintance, it wouldn’t bother you in the least that I am four years your junior.’

Galahad had grinned after having finished his little speech and Viviane had just stared at him as if struck by lightning. She had then turned and reprised eating, feigning a great deal of interest in her box of noodles. After a few seconds of silence, she had murmured something.

‘What did you say?’ asked Galahad.

‘I said “almost five”. You’re almost five years my junior.’

‘Almost five is four.’

She hadn’t replied to that, but Galahad knew she must have been, at least slightly, genuinely upset.

‘People are going to talk about you. You’re beautiful, young, and rich. They won’t be able to help it; you have no idea what jealousy does to a person.’ 

‘How would you know? Maybe I do know.’

Galahad snorted. ‘What would you have to be jealous of? There are no men or women who are smarter or more beautiful than you, for the love of God. You have no reason to be jealous of anyone.’

They had then gone silent, both of them stunned by the sudden admission of admiration. 

'Thank you. But jealousy is not always a rational feeling, it doesn't always need a reason. In fact, it rarely does.'

Galahad had just observed her then, thought about asking more but had refrained himself. If she wanted to share, she would, he wouldn't force her. 

He came back to the present and shook his head at the pleasure the memory had just brought him. He picked his mobile and went to make a call.

‘Hello, mother, did you say there’s a new fancy place that sell tux?– yes, I do have one already but I need a new one– I don’t know yet, I– well, I like skinny ties!– What? No, you cannot come with me, why would you?– No, I– Ok, ok, fine. I’ll meet you there– No, I’ll definitely meet you there, I draw the line at being picked up, mother. Yes, fine. Bye.’

*

Wearing the amethyst set was a mistake. Viviane remembered the words of her ballet teacher, back from when her mum had still been alive and her family had looked like a reasonably normal one. Never wear purple on stage. And she was on stage. Everyone was on edge because the Queen of Avalon had published a new clue and the identity of her victims was now as clear as daylight. 

It would be appropriate to wonder if the entire community of International Students is going to live in Green Park after B’s contracts are signed and sealed. What does he need an entire building in Central London for, anyway? After all, the possibilities of exploitation are so few.

She was on stage and this were going to be her most difficult performance. She was never this explicit. She would usually drag things out for a long time before releasing any useful or explicit information. She was a blogger, at the end of the day, an entertainer. And she admitted to herself that the hunt was the most enjoyable part. It was usually Scotland Yard that, on the right scent, would track the preys down. But students with limited income that needed a roof over their heads was a weakness of hers. After all, that was one of the main reasons she dropped out. Marrying Pellinore gave her stability, economic as well as emotional. She might have gone back to university after that but she had consciously decided not to. However, not everyone is as lucky as she had been. 

Viviane scanned the crowd. She adjusted an imaginary crease of her purple dress, and touched her earrings as if to make sure they were still there. She was incredibly nervous, more than she had been in the past three years and instinctively she was looking for the one person who could make her feel in control again. The darkness was interrupted only by the small applique lights on top of the photographs, arranged on transparent walls in the middle of the room. An ocean of faces swam in front of Viviane between the photos and the crowd. And none of them was the one she wanted to see. Until she spotted broad shoulders and golden hair. He had arrived. He turned around and saw her too but instead of walking towards her, he sent her a wicked grin that showed tiny wrinkles at the corner of his eyes and a dimple, and walked on the opposite direction. Viviane was confused for a moment but when he sent her an heated look, she understood: he was in the mood to play. She accommodated him.   
She followed him around for what seemed to be an eternity. Galahad looked more handsome than ever in a black tuxedo, even more handsome than a model could because instead of staring back from the pages of a glossy magazine, he was flesh and blood, standing close enough to taunt, far enough to drive her mad. Viviane could feel her heart throbbing and swore that a moment longer of this torture and her teeth would start chattering. She stopped in front of a photograph and moved slightly on the right as if to read its caption. Galahad stopped and stared at her. When she saw that he had noticed her she turned around and walked out of the room.

*  
Galahad was running out of self-control. Why did he do this to himself?

But he had to be sure. He had to be absolutely sure she was as taken with him as he was with her. Seeing her smirk and leave the room had made his heart beat so fast, he was certain he would now sport a chronic heart disease; there was no way his heart would ever be the same. He started moving in her direction, slowly as not to attract attention when he was stopped on his track by a black-haired boy in his early twenties. Galahad fought the urge to scream. His smile was insincere.

‘You never called.’

Galahad grinned. ‘I told you I wouldn’t, Bors. You know it’s not my style.’

‘It didn’t stop me to hope.’

An awkward silence descended. 

Galahad could see why he had liked him and decided to spend a night with him. He was also a very handsome man but he looked so much younger to Galahad than he had just a month before. Or, maybe it was him– he felt older, more mature; which made him wince because it sounded so pretentious and unlike him. He is Galahad, the fun one; he is the one that gives as much as he gets, without breaking hearts; he had always made sure the rules were drawn before anything could happen, and if the other person seemed to have deeper feeling, he’d just walk away, but not without the appropriate reassurances that a relationship was not for him.   
Fun had started losing its appeal, lately. He had even read dozens of articles on the functioning of the real estate market in the biggest metropolis of the world. And didn’t yawn once.

‘Oh, dear.’

Galahad snapped back and focused on Bors once more. ‘What?’, he asked.

‘Balan Sachson is here. The man has nerve showing his face here. After what the Queen of Avalon wrote. That woman must have some very good informer.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Well, my father is in Real Estate and never heard a word of it. He is furious with his underlings because they should have known. Bors Estate has been dominating the market for a decade. I tell you, she is good.’

Galahad listened carefully but turned to have a look at Balan. Why would the man not hide instead. Bors didn’t seem concerned and went on.

‘I wonder where Balin is. His brother should keep a closer eye on him, after all if someone slipped some information, it was definitely him. That man has no control when there’s alcohol around. Oh, but of course, he is wherever Mrs. Lake is.’

Galahad turned so quickly his neck might have snapped in two. ‘Why would you say that?’

‘Well, everybody knows he is infatuated with her. Once he drunk so much that he grabbed and started screaming he would kidnap her as his “da did his ma”. It was hilarious, his brother had to drag him away. Another time he did– hey!’

Galahad was rushing out of the room, a shiver running through his spine.

*

Here we go again, thought Viviane. 

‘You have to m-marry me now.’

His words were slugged and his eyes unfocused. Once again, Balin was hopelessly drunk. 

‘I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do, Mr. Sachson. And, I really don’t want to marry you.’

‘You will haf to this time. You ruined me but I can ruin you too, dear.’

Viviane immediately realised her mistake. Her information had come directly from Balin, during one of his drunk-confessions. She didn’t think he had told everything uniquely to her. A man with such insecurities was bound to brag with all and sundry. Or, at least, that he would not remember.

Apparently, she was wrong. 

She tried to keep calm by forcing her breathing to be regular.

‘Mr. Sachson, you are making no sense. Not to point out the obvious but you have imbibed a copious amount of liquor and it is now clouding your judgment.’

Balin stumbled towards her and laughed. It was quite scary. And disgusting because his laughter had been interrupted by a revoltingly loud burp. 

She did nothing to hide her disgust.

‘Oh, yes. I like that face of yours. I want you to keep it just like that for when we get to the bedroom.’

He was drawing nearer and nearer. Viviane tried not to shake but failed. He was so close she could smell him reeking of alcohol and sweat. 

Then suddenly, with the loudest noise, he fell on the floor. The hand that still held the bronze vintage vase still trembled but she could not regret hitting him in the head. 

‘Well, he’s done for the night.’

Galahad was there. It was only then, when she raised her head and spotted him there, that tears started falling on her face.

*

Galahad mentally kicked himself for trying to lighten the mood. He should not have tried to be humourous. Not so mature, after all. In his defense, though, he was trying to distract her from staring at the motionless Balin.

He reached her in only a couple of strides and gently guided her away.

‘Come, let’s get you out of here.’

She stopped crying but didn’t make a sound. She actually used her hand to remove some tears from her cheek and Galahad thought she looked so young. She had been in control as long as she was alone but he understood that seeing a friendly face in such a dire situation had made her lose her cool demeanor.   
The moment they stepped in a dark gallery, she stopped him.

‘Where are we going?’ She asked, confused.

‘Away.’ Replied Galahad.

‘This is not where the exit is.’

‘We cannot risk going out of the principal door, we’re sneaking out of the back door.’

They reprised walked him but only after a couple of metres, she stopped him once more.

‘What?’

 

‘I would have found a way out of my own. I am not a damsel in distress. I did not cry because I am weak, I cried because I was angry, I always do it. I hate it but that’s what happens when I am angry beyond hope. But I would have shaken myself off and found a way out. I don’t need anyone to save me.’

He let her finish and not even once did he attempt to interrupt her.

‘Viviane, you hit the bastard in the head. You saved yourself. I am just helping you. The fact that you don’t need me doesn’t mean you don’t have me.’

They were holding hands. Neither of them had realised until that moment.

A sudden noise of steps made them jump and they both walked towards the end of the gallery to a lighter corridor. Realising that the person was going to reach them soon, he drew Viviane close to him and pushed her toward an alcove where a statue should have been. They waited there, immobile and silent.  
The steps became insistent. Galahad moved even closer, trying to shield Viviane with his body. She might be quite hidden, but what about him? They would definitely see him.  
He was too close to her now, he could smell her lovely perfume and feel the heat of her skin, the slight tremor of her naked shoulders. He couldn’t think but he had to think.   
Then, her hands were framing his face and she was kissing him. 

Everything went blank. 

It started with a gentle touching of lips, both too stunned at first. Until she angled her head and bit his bottom lip. The kissed deepened, then. His arms came more securely around her, circling her waist, and his hands started stroking her back.   
Her own hands did not stay still, she brought one to clutch his neck, caressing the point where his hair started, while the other slid on his chest, where she could feel his accelerated heartbeat. Impossibly, he moved even closer until not a breath could have passed between them. Her body modeled against him perfectly as if it was meant for his, soft where he was hard.   
She pulled away and averted her gaze. He couldn’t have looked away if the building had been on flame. He became aware that she was talking to him. Dazed, he asked:

‘What?’

‘We need to go now, whoever that was, they’re gone now.’ 

The kiss must have done him in too. He could comprehend the words’ meaning but could do nothing except looking at her and trying to breath in order to regain control of his body. 

‘Galahad!’ she whispered a bit more irritated.

‘What?’

‘MOVE’

He moved but still looked very confused. 

‘Yes, move. Yes.’

They reprised walking towards the back door but not before Viviane had taken hold of his hand again. 

She was leading now, a slight smile on her lips, while Galahad followed her, his eyes still unfocused and with an expression of someone who had just gotten lost in the middle of a square.


End file.
